


Allow Me to Reintroduce Myself

by NerdAlert (alltimelisa)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - No One Direction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-08 13:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14106165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltimelisa/pseuds/NerdAlert
Summary: Harry is a ballet instructor and Zayn takes his little sister to his class. He slowly falls for the overly enthusiastic quirky instructor.OrThe five-ish times Harry thinks Zayn is a dilf and the one time Zayn sets him straight





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Golgul (Aearombereth)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aearombereth/gifts).



> Title from Public Service Announcement by Jay Z for no other reason than that line felt accurate
> 
> Shout out to Trisha for being my beta and helping me when I had absolutely no clue where this was going. 
> 
> To Golgul I hope this is what you had in mind and I especially hope you like it!

The ballet studio was in an old brick building that looks as if it used to house flats inside. Despite the buildings clear age, it looks well kept, with a shiny brass plaque on the front door hanging beneath shiny black numbers proudly proclaiming 74 Prince Street. The plaque looked as if it was polished regularly, with a title in a curling font that read, “On Pointe Ballet Studio.” The midday sun glints off the brass plaque drawing the eyes of pedestrians all around. 

Once inside the building, there was an entrance that held a few umbrella stands before leading down a long hallway that ended in a front desk where a cheerful blond Irishman sat. Behind the desk was another short hallway leading to the locker rooms. In order to get to the actual ballet rooms, one would have to walk back past the receptionist’s desk and find the flight of stairs off to the left. Up a flight of stairs, there were three ballet rooms that were used in rotation during the day. Studio Two was where the Toddlers ’n Tutus ballet class would be taking place during the summer. 

Studio Two was Harry’s prefered room to practice ballet in. The windows up near the top of the room allowed sunlight to come in and warm the room, but the nearby buildings shielded the dancers from too much light bouncing off of the mirrored walls and blinding them. The barres in the front of the room were well worn from the hands of hundreds of students practicing over the years. Despite Harry being so young, he’d had the studio for nearly three years now, and was a well known member of the community willing to help any girl become the ballerina she dreamed of being.The wooden floor gleamed, polished with care. Everyone who came through the doors knew that this ballet company was well loved and well cared for. 

The folding chairs towards the back of the room were currently empty, but Harry knew that he only had a few short moments before the earliest parent would arrive. He checks the old school CD player that he has sitting in the back left corner; he always felt that iPods and cellphones couldn’t quite capture the full emotion of a song, so he used an old radio bought at a garage sale a few years back. Satisfied that everything is fine he moves to the middle of the room where the barre sits waiting to be used. 

Harry stretches out his leg on the barre, watching as his clones in the mirrors do the same, their lime green leg warmers moving in tandem. Leaning in deeply to hug his knee, Harry hears the door click open as the first parent arrives. Straightening out of the bend, he quickly stands upright and adjusts the lime green headband that perfectly matches his leg warmers, barely keeping the curls out of his face before he calls out a greeting. 

“Welcome! You can put your coats over in the corner while we wait for everyone to arrive.” Harry announces before he crouches down to speak to the little girl hovering awkwardly in the middle of the ballet studio. She looks uncomfortable as her mother moves to the left side of the room to put their coats away, and Harry doesn’t want any of his students to feel unwelcome.  
“Hi, my name is Harry, what's your name?” He asks smiling gently. 

The girl looks up at her mother and sticks her thumb in her mouth. 

“Sweetie, why don’t you tell Harry your name? He’s going to be teaching you ballet.”

“Don’t worry, we always have a few shy ones, but after a few dances, she’ll open right up,” Harry says grinning at the mom reassuringly, as more parents come through the door with their daughters in tow. 

 

“Okay everyone let's get our coats put away and line up so we can start the warm up.” Harry beams at the class before walking around and helping adjusting ponytails and introducing himself to the new comers. 

“Okay,” he says glancing at the large clock on the wall, “I see we have some new faces in the crowd. Let's start by saying our names and ages before we begin the warm up.” Harry nods encouragingly at one little girl in a bright fuschia tutu who can't quite say ‘three’ when he hears someone rushing down the hall. 

“Hurry up, Saaf, we're already running late, and we don't get a refund on missed classes,” a velvety voice complains. 

Harry gives an awkward chuckle while encouraging the little girl to finish her sentence, but before she gets the chance, the door bursts open hitting the wall revealing the most beautiful man that Harry’s ever seen. 

Despite being disheveled, having clearly thrown on the first outfit he could find before running out the door, the man was striking. With smooth brown skin and and cheekbones that belonged on a runway model Harry had no clue what a man like this was doing in his old ballet studio filled with suburban moms. Harry hardly has a moment to notice the tattoos running up the man's arms before he hears that smooth voice begin speaking. 

“Sorry we’re late. We had a bit of trouble getting up this morning,” the man says shooting a significant look at the little girl with him. He quickly begins to help her out of her jacket, revealing one of the more modest tutus in the room, a pale pink that complimented her skin tone perfectly. It had minimal beading while still being beautiful. 

“But you're the one who woke up lates” she pouts at him. 

The man shoots an embarrassed grin at Harry before gently nudging her into line. The resemblance in them is striking, they have the same smooth brown skin, striking eyes, and wavy dark hair. 

Harry takes a moment to wonder how the man is. He looks a little young to have a daughter. Harry silently berates himself for judging when he realizes the class is waiting for his queue. He clears his throat awkwardly before tearing his eyes away from the man. Clapping his hands twice he gets goes back to stand in front of the girls, not having realized that he had even moved towards the other man to begin with. 

“Okay, guys, we were just going over introductions. We are saying our names and ages. Rebecca was just introducing herself when our friends came in. You may continue,” Harry says enthusiastically. The rest of class goes off without a problem; the girls are enthusiastic and eager to become real life ballerinas.

Harry's eyes stray to the stranger a few times during the hour long lesson, and he only gets caught twice, the man smirking the second time his eyes meet Harry’s. At the end of class Harry dismisses the girls and angles towards the latecomer. 

“Harry, hi! I'm Savannah’s mom. I just had a few questions about the class, do you mind?” A woman with bleach blonde hair and a blinding smile says while cornering Harry. 

“ Yeah, of course! I live to serve,” Harry chuckles with an awkward bow and he watches the gorgeous stranger walk out the door with his daughter. 

\-----------

“Looooouis,” Harry calls out, slamming the door to their flat close behind him. They lived in a flat not too far from the studio. It was a little small for two grown men, but with one teaching sixth form drama and the other a fairly new ballet instructor, it was all they could afford. Tripping over a pair of shoes in the entryway, Harry calls out again, “Honey, I’m hooome.”

Harry walks over into the living room where Louis is sitting on the worn down sofa texting. “Lewis,” Harry draws out, flopping dramatically onto his friend. “There’s a supermodel bringing his daughter to my ballet studio. What am I supposed to do,” Harry croons into Louis’ ear dragging out the vowel. 

 

“‘Spose you could teach her ballet,” Louis says pushing ineffectually at the man weighing him down. 

 

“But how can I focus on ballet when I want to have his babies? I don’t even know if the mom is in the picture, or if he’s even gay,” he says dramatically rolling off of Louis onto the floor. 

 

“Don’t worry,” Louis says soothingly, “I’m sure he took one look at the giraffe in leg warmers and decided not to return.”

 

“I hate you,” Harry moans while Louis pets his curls.


	2. Chapter 2

As Harry sets up the Toddlers ‘n Tutus ballet class, he can’t help constantly looking to the door everytime he hears footsteps coming down the hall. He’s waiting anxiously to see if the gorgeous stranger and his daughter will make it to class today. He checks one last time that the radio is working before he begins to stretch in an effort to calm his nerves. Harry is bending over, with his arms wrapped around the backs of his knees when he hears the door click open behind him. The footsteps stop in the entryway before someone awkwardly clears their throat. Unfolding himself, Harry turns around to greet the early birds and warm brown eyes meet bright green. 

“Um, hey. I see you guys are on time today,” he chuckles nervously. The man laughs in response before sticking out his hand. 

“Hey, I’m Zayn, and Safaa you already know,” he says gesturing towards the little girl standing beside him. 

“Can I go put my coat away?” she asks, wriggling impatiently, interrupting what Harry was going to say. 

Zayn laughs again before bending down to help her out of her jacket. Harry catches a whiff of cigarette smoke and the paint on Zayn’s jacket before the man stands up again, sending Safaa to put away her coat. Harry can’t help but notice the man is even more stunning now that he is put together. His hair is coiffed neatly with two strands falling over his eyes. A warm brown jacket paired with black jeans and worn combat boots. He looks amazing, and Harry has to swallow down the saliva suddenly filling his mouth. Before he can get any inappropriate thoughts Zayn begins speaking, saving him from certain embarrassment. 

“So I just wanted to come early and apologize for us being late last time,” Zayn says awkwardly running a tattooed hand through his hair. 

Harry can’t help but notice the way the delicate design frames Zayn’s fingers in the best way. “Don’t worry about it. I’m happy you guys made it at all,” Harry says, his cheeks dimpling with the grin. 

Zayn grins back before gesturing to Harry’s leg warmers, now a tranquil turquoise that doesn’t seem to go with his bright yellow shorts. “Are these a required part of the uniform?” Zayn asks grinning slyly. 

 

“Well-” Harry starts to answer, leaning forward and looking up with those big green eyes flirtatiously when the door swings open and group of girls come barreling in shouting his name in excited tones. Harry grins bashfully at being caught flirting with a parent before bending down to greet the girls who had just entered. 

Zayn walks to the back and grabs a seat as he watches Harry talking to each of the little girls, he already knows their names after only having one class. 

Soon the girls are all lined up and Harry begins the days music selection. This week is an eclectic mix of Celine Dion, Shania Twain, and Katy Perry. Zayn can’t seem to keep his eyes off of the gangly dance instructor for most of the lesson. The light coming through the windows on the far wall only serve to make Harry more striking. 

The light accentuates his long legs, in shorts that don’t seem quite appropriate for teaching a Toddlers n Tutus dance class. Everytime Harry goes to push a curl back from his face Zayn notices the dimples carved into Harry’s face, making him seem slightly cherubic. Zayn and Harry’s eyes meet, and Zayn gives a knowing smirk. It might not so bad bringing Safaa to her dance lessons after all. 

Harry watches helplessly as Zayn walks out of the studio holding his daughter's hand. Taylor had stopped him after class this time, and he was well acquainted with her advances. 

“Harry, you have got to tell me what you’re planning for the recital this summer,” she simpers, widening her eyes at him. “You know Mckayleighs tutus have to be ordered in advance,” she says trying to disguise a caress as a friendly touch. 

Harry hides a grimace, smiling and waving as Zayn and Safaa exit, before turning back to Taylor. 

\-----------

Harry walks out of the old brick building feeling well relaxed. He just finished practicing his daily yoga routine in one one of building’s smaller rooms when he decides to stop by the old bakery he used to work. He’s mentally deciding between macaroons and a more simple chocolate cake when her hears a plaintive whine from around the corner. 

“But you promised we could stop for snacks on the way home, Zayn. Besides Saf is starving,” Harry’s head snaps up at hearing the man's name. There can't possibly be that many Zayns in South London, Harry thinks to himself. Furtively trying to tuck in the strands that escaped from his bun, Harry rounds the corner trying not to look obvious. He spots Zayn with his daughter and a young preteen girl walking into the bakery. She bears a striking resemblance to them, and Harry has to wonder just how old Zayn is to have a preteen daughter. Pulling out his phone, Harry texts Louis. 

Harry 3:28 pm: He’s in my bakery what do I do?  
Harry 3:28 pm: Louis I think he has two daughters, im not ready to be stepdad to a teenager  
Harry 3:29: I’m just gonna skip the macarons today 

Louis 3:31 pm: Get the macarons you fucker is the only response Harry gets and then he’s standing in front of the bakery. Taking a deep breath Harry pushes the door open, hearing the tinkle of the bell that always makes him feel at home. 

Safaa turns around letting out an excited shriek when she catches sight of Harry, before running and throwing herself into his arms. 

“Oh my God, you can’t just jump on people Safaa,” Zayn says moving forward to take her from Harry’s arms. The preteen is standing in the back watching Harry with curious eyes while Zayn tells Safaa to apologize. “You have to let me buy you something, she gets so excited sometimes,” Zayn says sheepishly. 

“Oh, it’s no problem,” Harry says, fiddling with the one curl that never stays in the bun. Before Zayn can further insist a woman walks out of kitchen holding a bag of pastries. 

“Is that Harry I see hiding back there?” she calls out while handing over the bag to Zayn’s older daughter. 

“Hi, Ethel,” Harry says, grinning before walking over to give her a kiss on both cheeks. 

“Now I made a special batch of those muffins you love, and I don’t want to hear any fussin,” she says, already bustling around the display cases full of food. 

“I bet Louis wants some macarons, too,” Ethel says, already reaching for a second bag to fill. 

Harry looks over to see Zayn raising an eyebrow and can feel himself flushing an unflattering shade of red. 

“Well, I guess I don’t have to buy you anything since you’ve already got an in,” Zayn says with a sly grin. “And no leg warmers today, I almost didn’t recognize you,” Zayn continues giving a very obvious once over to Harry. 

Harry flushes even brighter before he grins. “Who knew you were so into the leg warmers, Zayn,” he says with a smug grin. “All you had to do was ask,” Harry says before reaching around Zayn to grab his bags from Ethel. “Thanks, Ethel, I’ll see you on Thursday,” he calls out before dropping a 20 pound note in the tip jar. Throwing one last smirk over his shoulder, Harry walks out with a bit more sway in his hips, knowing that Zayn is watching him go.


	3. Chapter 3

After running into Zayn and his daughters at the bakery, Harry swears Zayn is popping up everywhere. If Harry doesn’t see him after his afternoon run, then he’s spotting Zayn across the aisles at the local Tesco. 

“I’m being tortured, Niall; I’m one run in away from exploding,” Harry whines, leaning over the reception desk at the studio as Niall closes up for the day.

Louis laughs from his perch on top of the reception desk before reaching down to twist Harry's nipple. 

“We gotta get this fucker laid before he gets banned for public masturbation.” 

Harry swats half heartedly at Louis before perking up. “Vice on Friday?” Harry asks referring to the club the always go to when they want a pick me up. 

“Sure, but you're paying the cab home,” Louis responds before hopping off the counter and ruffling Niall's hair. 

“Let's go, Nialler. I've had enough of mediocre ballet studios for the day,” he says ignoring Harry's outraged shout, already running down the hall to avoid Harry's wrath. 

\------------------

Harry takes one last look of his outfit in the mirror, ruffling his hair to make sure it's sitting perfect, before he shouts down hall for Louis. Checking one last time that the flat is locked up properly, they head down the stairs to catch the cab Niall is sitting in. 

“Nice pineapples, Haz, but maybe you could put some of the nips away, yea?” Niall says in greeting. Louis cackles meanly in agreement as the taxi pulls away from the kerb. 

When they arrive at Vice, Harry heads straight to the bar, soaking in the atmosphere of gyrating bodies and the smell of sweat and too much perfume. There are blue lights flashing at odd intervals across the entire place. The club isn’t like some of the larger ones in London, instead its more cozy. It has the bar in the center with worn brown wood stained from the many drunken spills it has seen. The dance floor takes up most of the space to the left of the entrance, already packed with grinding bodys. To the right of the bar is a smaller area with a few booths, already taken up by women giving their feet a rest from their sky high heels, or couples sneaking a risky grope before finally calling it quits and going home together. Harry breathes it in, he loves Vice, it doesn’t matter who what you’re looking for but you’re almost guaranteed to find it here. 

Grinning, he arrives at the bar and orders a gin and tonic and beers for Louis and Niall. As the boys toast, Harry scopes out the crowd. There's a woman on the left side of the bar eyeing him and he flashes his dimples before looking out into the crowd. He catches the eye of his friends before gesturing to the dance floor. Downing his drink a second later, Harry heads into the fray, blending in seamlessly with the neon blue lights reflecting off of his golden Chelsea boots before he's lost in the crowd. 

Harry is dancing in the middle of the crowd, buffered on all sides by others drawn in by his charm, when he spots Zayn. Straight ahead of him, Zayn is leaning casually against the bar in skin tight jeans ripped at the knee and a plain white tee soaked through with sweat revealing even more tattoos. Before Harry can think about it too much, he muscles his way through the crowd, shrugging the hands off of his body he heads straight towards Zayn. 

As if drawn by a magnet, Zayn’s head turns towards Harry, their eyes meeting as Harry picks his way through the crowd. Zayn gives him a once over before a satisfied grin curls over his lips. Settling in even more into the counter Zayn raises a brow at Harry when he finally comes to a stop in front of him. Signaling the bartender for a water, Harry looks at Zayn up close. 

“Hey!” Harry shouts, immediately feeling stupid. 

 

“Hey,” Zayn drawls in response, forcing Harry to lean in to hear him over the bass in his ears. Plucking at Harry's shirt Zayn leans in with his lips brushing against a Harry's ear. 

“Nice shirt.” Harry can feel the smirk as Zayn’s stubble scratches along the outer shell of his ear. 

Tossing his hair over one shoulder, Harry looks up from beneath his lashes, not quite drunk but willing to use it as an excuse if Zayn is unreceptive to his advances. Grinning wide enough to flash his dimples, Harry leans forward under the pretense of being heard, making sure his lips brush against Zayn’s ear before asking, “Wanna dance?”

The only response he gets is Zayn moving away from the bar, grabbing him by the belt loops and leading them onto the dance floor. Harry does not even remember the water he ordered until much, much later.

It feels as if they dance forever, their bodies moving as one. Zayn holding onto Harry's hips, holding him close as they grind to the beat. While they're not dancing as filthily as the couples surrounding them, there is a definite electricity surrounding them. A feeling of possibility with every roll of their hips as they struggle to differentiate the pounding of their hearts from the pounding bassline filling the club. 

Miming a drink, Harry grabs Zayn’s hand and pulls him through the crowd back towards the bar. Zayn instantly grabs a hold of his hips, plastering his front to Harry’s back. It’s clear to both of them where this night is going, and Harry wants to remember every detail. Spotting Niall with his arm around the waist of a tall blonde, Harry points over to him, and says, “Grab me a water; I just need to say hi to my friend.” 

Zayn nods in understanding before turning to the bar, the crowd immediately shifting to take up the space that Harry once occupied. Reaching Niall, Harry immediately asks after Louis. 

“Dunno, last I saw he was with some brunette,” Niall slurs out, well past drunk, while the blonde on his arm titters hysterically. 

“Okay, mate, think I'm gonna go home with someone so don’t wait up for me,” Harry shouts over some remixed pop song. Niall nods before turning back to the girl. Grinning, Harry heads back to where he last saw Zayn. 

He’s almost at the bar when he spots Zayn. He’s standing exactly where Harry left him, except this time, there is a brown haired man hanging off of him. The man is built, though not taller than Harry, with shaggy hair giving him the appearance of an oversized puppy. Harry looks on in bemusement, watching as Zayn helps support the man’s weight easily, belying some strength in such a lithe frame. Harry takes a moment to imagine what those arms would like like holding him up before he tunes back in. 

Zayn turns his face to the man, lips brushing over a ruddy cheek, in a horrible reminder of the way he and Harry were talking earlier. Whatever he says must excite the man as he suddenly grabs Zayn in a hug planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Harry can’t stop looking as Zayn laughs loudly, throwing his head back as his eyes crinkle up into little slits. It’s as though watching a crash on the freeway -- as horrified as he is, he can’t look away. 

Zayn looks around as if searching for someone, and Harry wonders if he is looking for him, before the man pulls on Zayn’s arm, dragging him away from the bar. Harry watches Zayn walk out with the man clinging to his back and feels a rush of anger at the tears wanting to gather in his eyes. Resolutely turning away, Harry goes back to the bar and gets a shot of tequila before heading back onto the dance floor. There were plenty of people who would want to go home with him after all. 

\-----------------

Niall sits on top of a scarred old wooden table kicking his legs. The wallpaper in the kitchen is yellowed with age, and the paisley pattern looks as if it hasn't been updated since the ‘70s. Scooping another bite of eggs into his mouth, Niall begins to speak, spraying crumbs across the kitchen. 

“Wha’ happened to that bloke you were goin’ home with Harry?” 

Shrugging, Harry continues washing the dishes, making sure to add soap to the sponge and scrub each pot far more thoroughly than it needed. “He had to go home.”

“Did ya at least get a blowie in one of the stalls before he left?” Louis asks from where he's slouching over a cooling mug of tea. 

Wringing out sponge, Harry turns away from the sink and squares his shoulders before responding. “No, he went home with someone else.”

 

“That absolute fucker,” Louis exclaims immediately, wincing at the sharp pain that shoots through his hear from the outburst. 

 

Niall shoots him a sympathetic look before adding more syrup to his breakfast. “You guys seemed to be hitting it off. What happened?” 

“Dunno. I went back to the bar and watched some fit bloke take him home. It doesn't matter.” Harry shrugs again pushing back his headband, this one with happy turtles dancing around the band. Louis and Niall exchange looks before turning back to Harry. 

“We'll go out tonight. I'm sure there's someone you can bring home.” Louis says reassuringly. Niall nods in agreement reaching over to pat Harry on the back. 

Harry already knowing when he’s lost a fight agrees. “Fine, but we're back by 2 if we don't find anyone.” 

The boys nod in agreement, silently congratulating themselves.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry walks into the ballet studio like a man walking to the gallows. His heart is in his stomach, and his legs feel like lead. This is why he doesn’t get involved with parents. He hates that one man can make him dread coming to work when he normally couldn’t be happier anywhere else. He is dreading the moment Zayn walks in, and he has to smile and pretend that everything is fine. Harry does his warmups halfheartedly, knowing that he has to stretch but not really wanting to. 

He feels suddenly angry. He’s worked hard for this studio, to make a name for himself and he is not going to allow some bloke with a jawline Harry wants to lick ruin that all. Louis suggested Harry get some revenge, but Harry knows that it isn’t the way to do things. Instead, he resolves to get through today’s lesson and the rest of summer with as little communication with Zayn as possible. 

Harry’s plan doesn’t even last the full 24 hours as Zayn walks in early with Safaa in tow. Pasting on a smile, Harry tries, and fails spectacularly, to ignore how good Zayn looks. In black joggers with paint splattered all over paired with a well worn pair of tennis shoes and a faded red hoodie, Zayn looks adorably mussed, and Harry hates him a little bit for it. 

Zayn helps Safaa out of her jacket, turning to Harry as she walks over to the coat rack. 

“Hey, what happened to you on Friday?” Zayn asks tilting his head to the side. 

Harry’s brows pull together and his lips pucker in confusion. He wasn’t the one that went home with someone else, shouldn’t he be asking Zayn that question. “What do you mean what happened? Didn’t you-” Harry cuts himself off as Safaa approaches them. 

“Do you like my tutu, Harry?” she asks giving a cute twirl, allowing the orange tutu to swirl around her legs. As she finishes, she beams at Harry clearly waiting for praise, and he does not fail her. 

“My goodness, I could just eat you up! In fact, I think I will,” Harry says dramatically before chasing Safaa around the room, glad for any excuse to avoid talking with Zayn. 

Harry has just caught Safaa and is tickling her when more parents begin to trickle in. Harry gives a mental sigh of relief, comforted by the fact that he has avoided talking to Zayn for the day. 

As Harry finishes the class for the day, he calls out to make an announcement. 

“In a month and a half, we will be putting on our summer performance. This year we will be doing “A Walk on The Wild Side,” and we are going to need some help fundraising, as well as some volunteers to help with the set. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask me or Niall.” With that he ends the class and he can see the excitement in many of the moms. The summer recital is always a big hit, and this year proves to be bigger and better than ever.

Harry can see Zayn making a beeline towards him, holding hands with a pouting Safaa as he cuts across the room, dodging moms and the odd dad. Panicking, Harry whirls around and grabs the person nearest to him. 

“Taylor, Hi. I had a question for you.” Harry says grimacing. Of all the people, he just had to grab Taylor. Quickly putting a smile on his face Harry goes into schmooze mode, as much as he hated it, he did need to speak with her. Her and her husband were some of the biggest contributors to the dance recitals, and they wouldn't be able to put on a stellar performance each year without the help of the Swifts. 

“I was just wondering if Bob was going to be donating some work to the set this year,” he says allowing Taylor to grab a hold of his hand. He can see Zayn standing off to the side waiting, and Harry silently prays that he leaves before Taylor is done. He seems to have picked the one day she was in a rush to actually want to speak with him. 

“Oh, I just love your concept this year. You know Bob and I would love to help,” she says patting awkwardly at his pecs. 

“We gotta go or else we’re gonna be late for Wali!” Harry hears Safaa cry out. Turning he watches as she tugs, pulling a reluctant Zayn by the hand. Zayn’s eyes meet Harry’s and he gives an awkward wave before turning back to Taylor. 

\----------------------

Harry sprints into the building giving Niall a quick wave before running up the stairs. He doesn’t even have time to be slightly proud about only tripping on the stairs once before he skids around the corner. He hasn’t been late to a class in nearly two years, and he can’t believe that he’s starting now. Everything that could’ve possibly gone wrong this morning did. He barely slept the night before and accidentally set his alarm to pm instead of am making him skip his morning yoga. He burned the last two pieces of toast that he was going to use for breakfast and left without his exercise clothes, making him run back to the house. After all of this, he missed the bus that would take him to the studio, leaving him to walk to the tube which dropped him off seven streets over. Harry bursts into the room, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Sorry guys,” he pants out into the startled faces of the parents and children assembled in the studio. “It’s been a rough morning.” 

“It’s okay, Harry, We all have off days, right Janine?” Taylor says widening her eyes to look innocent after her clear jab at one of the other moms. Harry rushes over to the radio, glancing over to spot Zayn against his will. Quickly looking away from where their eyes met Harry drops his gym bag to the ground before running to the front of the room. Despite his awful morning at least it’s kept him from having to talk to Zayn. Quickly leading the girls through some stretches Harry jumps into the class. 

After class, Zayn heads straight for Harry, and Harry looks around but there’s no one to pull into conversation. Packing away his stuff and getting ready to go, Harry hopes that looking busy will deter Zayn from talking to him. It’s clear that today just isn’t his lucky day. 

“Hey,” Zayn says and Harry can instantly feel his resolve weaken. 

“Hey,” Harry says back feeling a little stupid. 

“I was wondering if we could talk,” Zayn says, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. Safaa is in the back talking to one of her friends, and Harry sighs mournfully; it’s the one time he actually wants her to interrupt. 

“Look, Zayn, it isn’t appropriate for me to be seeing one of the kids parents. And shouldn’t you be off to pick up your other daughter?”

“Other daughter? Harry what--” Zayn starts to say in confusion before Harry cuts him off. 

“If you don’t have any questions about the recital, I think it’s best you go,“ Harry says, turning away from Zayn with finality. Zayn reaches out as if to spin Harry around before he thinks better of it. Dropping his arm, Zayn calls for Safaa, grabbing her hand he walks out the door but not before throwing one last confused look over his shoulder.


	5. Chapter 5

After the incident in the ballet studio Zayn keeps running over their every interaction in his mind. What could have cause Harry to think he was Safaa’s dad, or even Waliyah? Did Harry think he was some weird creep that went around hitting on his nonexistant kids ballet instructors?

Zayn is relaying all of these questions to Liam when he suggests they go out for lunch. 

“Just clear your head, bro. It won’t do you any good to sit in here thinking about it all day,” Liam says shrugging. Zayn nods in agreement before they head out to the bakery near the ballet studio. Zayn wouldn’t say that he was only going in hopes of running into Harry, but that was a part of it. Ethel’s cupcakes were also a huge part though; it would be a win-win, Zayn reasons. 

As they get inside the bakery, Zayn’s eyes immediately dart around looking for Harry, and they land on unmistakable curls barely being held back by a mauve headband. Zayn can’t help but be endeared by how quirky Harry is with his headbands and leg warmers, as if he walked straight out an ‘80’s exercise video. 

Liam bumps into Zayn’s back, looking around him, and he sees what caused him to stop in the middle of the entryway. 

“Hey, we could always go somewhere else.” Liam says, and Zayn wonders how he managed to become friends with the world’s most thoughtful person. Zayn knows for a fact that Liam has been looking forward to the croissants here, so Zayn straightens his back and walks across the bakery to the display cases. He’s hoping that Harry will see him, but also dreading the moment he knows is coming. 

“Hey, Ethel,” Zayn greets, looking up from the display of beautiful baked goods to send a smile to the older woman. After coming here a few times Zayn can see why Harry might’ve chosen to work here.

Hearing Zayn’s voice Harry perks up from where he is sitting slouched in a booth. Looking across Niall’s head, he can see Zayn looking through the display casses, nose nearly pressed to the glass. Harry knows that there is no way Zayn could’ve missed him sitting here, which means that he had purposely walked by and ignored them. As Harry looks closely, he can see that Zayn is with the man from the bar, and he’s suddenly angry. Not only did Zayn abandon him at the bar but, not even a week after Harry shuts him down, he’s crawled back to his booty call. He slurps angrily at his tea causing Niall to poke him in the stomach. 

“Who pissed in your tea, mate? What’s with the long face?”

“He’s here. With the guy from the bar.” Niall’s head shoots up to look around before landing on the couple. Zayn is sitting with his back to Harry, and he knows that the placement was on purpose. Harry can see Louis’ lip curl in disgust and just hopes that he doesn’t do anything to embarrassing. Before Louis can say anything, Harry hears Niall suck in a breath and he looks over. 

“Shit, he’s coming over,” Niall says nearly broadcasting it to the entire place. Harry can feel his eyes widen, looking around for an escape before Zayn arrives. His attempts are unsuccessful, and Harry watches as Zayn stops at their booth scuffing his shoes. With an awkward clearing of his throat, Zayn speaks. 

“Um, I was hoping I could speak with Harry?” He says, voice going high as if asking a question instead of making a request. 

“What for?” Louis asks glaring. Zayn’s fingers twitch and Harry idly wonders if he’s itching for a cigarette right now. 

“Um...” Zayn trails off clearly not knowing what to say. He shrugs running his fingers through his hair. Harry looks over at him and see his eyes begging for mercy before deciding to just get this over with. 

“It’s alright, lads. I’ll be fine,” Harry says with false bravado. Scooching over he pushes Niall out of the booth. Zayn’s shoulders sag in obvious relief, and Harry ignores the murderous looks Louis shoots at them. If he wants to talk hot dads that are no good for him, then that’s what he’ll do. 

They grab a table towards the back of the bakery. Not quite secluded but far away enough from everyone to avoid prying ears. Zayn fiddles with the rings on his fingers before clearing his throat. Harry stays silent. He may be allowing him to clear the air, but that doesn’t mean he’ll make it easy for Zayn. Zayn finally looks up and blurts out the most ridiculous thing that Harry has ever heard. 

“I’m not a father,” Zayn says, immediately flushing at his outburst. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m not a father,” Zayn repeats in a much quieter voice. “Safaa and Waliyha are my younger sisters.” Harry can feel his mind whirling. Of course they look alike, they’re siblings. Harry wants to smack himself and just barely refrains. 

“Well, what about that guy you’re dating?” Harry asks indignantly. He knows what he saw at the bar, and they definitely are not brothers. 

“Liam?” Zayn says in astonishment. “That’s my best mate.”

“I saw him all over you at the bar. Before you left to go home with him.” Harry says, he may be a lot of things but stupid isn’t one of them.

“He was drunk. Besides Liam is very much straight, and I looked for you at the bar. I thought you’d left” Zayn says exasperated. He hadn’t thought the conversation would be going like this. Harry sighs across the table. 

“You’re just friends?” he says trying to keep the hope out of his voice.

“Just friends. Although he is kinda fit,” Zayn says with a tentative smile. Harry grins back both relieved and embarrassed. If the floor opened into a sinkhole beneath his feet, he would be okay with that. 

“I am so sorry, Zayn. I don’t know what’s wrong with me”

“It’s okay, I forgive you. Under one condition.”

“You’re not gonna ask for pictures of my feet are you?” Harry asks with a teasing grin. 

“Well I was gonna ask you on a date, but that sounds like a much better idea.” 

“Well, if it’s alright with you, I’d much rather go on the date,” Harry says looking up from under his lashes. Zayn grins at him before holding his hand out. Harry stares at the hand confused. 

“Yes?” he draws out, dragging the word on. 

“Gimme your phone. I’m not waiting until Tuesday to speak to you again. Who knows what crazy thoughts you might get.” Harry chuckles at the light teasing, knowing he deserves it for his outlandish thoughts. Looking at Zayn now, he can clearly see that he’s far too young to have two daughters, much less one over the age of ten. Reaching into his pocket, Harry pulls out his phone, quickly unlocking it before handing it over. Zayn arches a curious brow over the home screen, which appears to be a very pale butt. 

“Don’t ask” Harry says turning red. Thankfully, Zayn decides not to comment and quickly locates the contacts app and begins putting his number in. Zayn quickly types something into the phone before closing it out and locking it. 

“I look forward to seeing you around, Harry” Zayn says with a sly smirk and with that he pushes back from the table and heads towards the door. His friend, Liam, meets him there and they exit together.

Harry walks back to his friends unable to control his smile. He sits down and pulls out his phone to see what Zayn texted himself. Pulling up his recent texts Harry sees a new name at the top Zayn Not A Dad Malik saved with an emoji sticking its tongue out right next to the name. Harry chuckles completely ignoring Louis, who has resorted to flicking balled up pieces of paper at Harry to get his attention. Opening the message All Harry sees is a simple “Text me whenever” outgoing from his phone.


	6. Chapter 6

Zayn and Harry text almost continuously over the next three days. Harry is attached to his phone, and Louis has no trouble showing his annoyance by throwing pillows at him whenever he’s distracted for too long. Harry learns that Zayn is not the oldest, but actually has an older sister that Lives in London, and he’s home on break from the nearby uni helping his parents watch over his younger sisters. Harry, in return, tells him about his older sister and how much of a pain she is always embarrassing him but that he secretly loves how she dotes on her baby brother.  
They talk so much that Harry worries Zayn will be sick of him but he never shows any signs of it so Harry continues to text him. They text all through the weekend and, before Harry knows, it’s Monday night, and he has the Toddlers n Tutus ballet class tomorrow. He tosses and turns all night at the thought of seeing Zayn again. He feels like a kid with a school crush but he can’t help but he excited. 

\---------------------

Harry walks into the studio on Tuesday full of excitement. Today he’s wearing a shirt with bright pink flamingos in hula skirts on paired with hot pink leg warmers. He goes through his stretches halfheartedly, just biding time until Zayn comes in. He hears footsteps coming down the hall and quickly busies himself pretending to be super focused in case it is Zayn that walks in. 

He hears a young girl that is definitely not Safaa screech his name and he tries to hide his disappointment. Standing up he turns round with a grin. 

“Savannah! How was your weekend?” Harry asks falling easily into his role as teacher. He sends a small nod to her mom before refocusing on what Savannah is saying. The little girl is just talking about the penguins she saw at the zoo when Harry hears more people coming down the hall. Hearing the thud of heavy boots against the ground Harry assumes it’s Zayn and sends Savannah off to put away her coat before class. He only has a second to feel guilty before Zayn walks into the room with Safaa in tow. Harry only has a moment to send a grin Zayn’s way before Safaa is talking his ear off about what she wants to be for the recital. 

Looking over at Zayn they share another secret smile, and Harry is incredibly happy that of all the ballet studios, Zayn walked into his.


	7. Chapter 7

“Ya know, when you asked me on a date, this wasn’t quite what I expected,” Zayn says with a teasing grin, leaning over to poke Harry in the sides to show that he’s kidding. 

They’re sitting inside the local schools theater. The stage has scuffed wooden floors that slope slightly downwards, and the whole place smells of the paint they are using. The heavy woollen curtains are draped to the side and coated in a thin layer of dust for not having been used since the term ended. Harry feels a rush of gratefulness to Louis for getting the school board to agree to allow them to have the recital there. Harry still isn’t really sure how all the set changes will work but he has faith that it’ll all come together before the show. 

“You got me; I was only after you for the free labor,” Harry shoots back with a smile. 

Zayn smiles and continues to paint the set for the dance recital. It’s mostly green and brown to show the dense foliage of a jungle; it isn’t the most challenging work, but it’s surprisingly freeing. Zayn hasn’t been able to just paint and not have to worry about it being good since he started at art school. Even if it is a pretty basic jungle scene, he’s happy to be able to paint so freely. Harry might be getting free labor out of this date but Zayn knows that he paid attention to everything they talked about and chose a date that Zayn would enjoy. 

“Seriously, thanks for this,” Zayn says with a shy smile, pretending to be engrossed in his painting. 

“Of course. It’s not everyday I get to go on a date with a cute boy and get free labor for the ballet studio at the same time,” Harry lets out a loud snort at his statement and Zayn can’t help but laugh along. When they finally stop laughing Zayn asks, 

“So how did you become a toddler dance instructor of all things?” He puts his paintbrush down and lays across on his back with his head pillowed in his arms. He turns his head to look across the stage over at Harry. Harry turns towards him crossing his legs before he answers. 

“Dunno, I just kinda fell into it,” he says with a shrug.

“For a while, I thought I’d go to culinary school and be baker. Then one day my yoga instructor invited me to her dance class, and I never looked back.” Zayn nods. 

“That’s pretty cool of you. My parents would kill me if I did that. They kind of already wanted to when I decided to go to art school instead of becoming a teacher,” Zayn says with a chuckle. It is still a bit of a sore spot for him, but he knows his parents were just concerned for him. The term “starving artist” wasn’t coined out of nowhere, after all. 

“My mum has always been supportive. She always says that life is too short to do something you don’t love,” Harry says with a shrug. He has alway been lucky to have supportive parents. When Robin died, he left Harry the building where the ballet studio resides, and Harry couldn’t be more grateful. They sit together in silence for a moment before Zayn pops up. 

“You said you were going to culinary school right? When do I get to taste some of your cooking?”

“Right now, actually,” Harry says standing up. He leans back into a stretch and Zayn can hear his back crack. 

“Sick,” he says nodding in approval, and Harry isn’t sure if he means the food or for the loud noise his back made. 

“It wouldn’t be a date without food,” Harry says brandishing a real wicker basket. Zayn feels a little as if he’s on a date with Mary Poppins or something but he kinda likes it. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were Halal or not, so I just made us some cheese toasties, and I have some water and wine,” Harry says a little nervously. He knew that Zayn mentioned he was Muslim, but he hoped he didn’t overstep any boundaries. 

“Mate, this is sick! I love it,” Zayn smiles, and Harry can feel his chest tighten in a familiar emotion. Zayn’s eyes are almost shut with how big he’s grinning, and Harry feels a bit of pride at being the one to put that look on his face. 

“You don’t have any allergies do you? I have a bit of banana nut cake in there, too.”

“Nah, I can eat just about anything. Seriously thank you,” Zayn says. 

“It’s no big deal,” Harry says shrugging bashfully, and Zayn admires how even in a casual white t-shirt and plain gray joggers Harry looks beautiful. 

“Still, allow me to make it up to you?”

“How exactly do you plan to do that,” Harry asks going from bashful to flirty in seconds. Peeking up from beneath his lashes and licking his lips. 

“Another date. A real one,” Zayn says with a teasing grin. Their job painting sets all but forgotten in the face of their flirting. Harry stares at Zayn for a moment before a wide grin breaks out on his face. 

“I’d like that,” Harry says, his cheeks somehow dimpling even further.


End file.
